


in which dallas falls in two different kinds of ways

by fitried



Category: Eerie Crests (Webcomic)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Not the Daft Punk kind, coffee shop AU, instant crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2018-10-24 16:13:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10745202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fitried/pseuds/fitried
Summary: Dallas is sleep deprived, the new Hot Barista is, well, Hot, and Parker is absolutely not having any of this lame flirting.Basically, a Mandatory EC Coffee Shop AU.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jellyfishfrost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jellyfishfrost/gifts).



> VERY HAPPY BIRTHDAY PRESENT FOR BELL. WHO IS GIFT. AND WHO I LOVE IMMENSELY.
> 
> AND HUGE thank you to [Angie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/emelianss/pseuds/emelianss) who helped make this sound decent for my unskilled ass. Your aide was essential.

  
  


"Art school really compliments your eye bags, Dallas."

"Fuck off, Jonas."

"Say, how many hours of healthy resting have you gotten in the past three days? Three hours? Four tops? Might I be ambitious enough to say _five?_ "

"Fuck _off_ , Jonas."

Parker pokes his tongue out between his lips and squints at Dallas as though offended. He isn't. He is, however, very concerned.

Dallas always looks like he hasn't had enough sleep, and it’s always true. He has the eyebags, the exhausted demeanor and the perfect hunched posture that makes him blend so perfectly with the college student staple. That's not concerning, that's basically routine. What kind of self-respecting grad student ever sleeps before 1 am anyway?

What is concerning, though, is that this morning, Parker found Dallas spread eagle on a large canvas on their dorm room floor, snoring softly over an acrylic painting of a winter landscape. What's more concerning still, is that he'd only been able to sleep like this for half an hour before his alarm jolted him awake.

He still has a bit of white paint on his cheek. Parker is afraid that the wrong kind of poke would send him falling like a ragdoll, so he doesn't have the heart to take the initiative and peel it off.

Whatever, art kids can get away with all kinds of fashion faux pas anyway, right? It makes you look edgy.

Not like Dallas has heard about how hot the new barista here is rumoured to be, and it hardly looks like he'd care anyway. All he cares about is his three espresso shots and not failing school, obviously. He's still wearing his clothes from the night before and trying to look like he isn't a blink away from passing out.

He most definitely is, but it all somehow looks endearing on him. The big, owl eyes, his carrot red hair spreading freely in various cowlicks, and him trying to hide his yawns behind his arm. Parker feels almost generous. Maybe he'll buy Dallas his coffee to spare him the pain of having to pull out his wallet this once. It’s a little uncertain whether he'll make it to the end of this queue awake anyway.

The queues are always long here, and always a little frustrating to endure in the morning when everyone here could have used more sleep and maybe a better breakfast than caffeine. Parker will be gracious now, and when Dallas has had a whole night's rest, he'll demand McDonald's in return. It's only fair.

After ten tedious minutes, and having nudged Dallas at least twice to stop him from falling asleep standing, Parker finds himself at the cash register. It’s with a handful of money and a sleepy Margolin holding onto his hoodie like a small child afraid of getting separated from his mother, that he comes face to face, at last, with the Rumoured Hot Barista.

He stands true to his reputation, Parker must admit. And in many ways, too.

He has the messy, bouncy hair of a freaking Vogue model, and the broad shoulders, and soft green eyes (that Parker cleverly avoids) and his skin is the warm color of toffee. He’s almost too perfect, but the worst part is that he looks effortlessly cool. Parker has never looked so easily cool. Could he ever look this chill?

Parker is sure he wouldn't look cool even if he had those ear gauges.

The Hot Barista is smiling and it is, of course, a very cool smile. But his eyes flicker towards Dallas and he squints with concern. Of course, he has long, dark lashes and they delicately fan over his very nice cheeks.

"Is he alright?" he asks.

Parker should've seen this fucking coming; he has a deep, warm, voice too like he could sing you Indie love songs or something equally obnoxious. When does this end? It's too early in the morning for ridiculously perfect people.

Parker looks back at his best friend, who is blinking very, very slowly at the floor as he sways to his sides like a very lazy pendulum. Good God. how is he going to survive his classes for the day? He doesn't even have the strength to stay awake, much less sit through 2 hours of presentations.

"Dude, bro. Are you alright?" Parker nudges Dallas yet again and Dallas looks up blearily with a hum. He spares a glance at Parker and turns to the Hot Barista, taking a minute to process the sight before him with scrunched eyebrows.

The more seconds he stares, the better he comes to terms with the sheer attractiveness of Hot Barista, and the wider his eyes grow. The change in his face from pale to bright pink is so fast that Parker is almost impressed.

Hot Barista smiles at Dallas, a very reassuring smile with prominent cute dimples, and Parker can feel Dallas's grip on the hoodie tighten. Parker knew Dallas would never be able to take a full personal attack like this. His eyebrows shoot up and his cheeks darken to red till his freckles are almost hidden entirely.

_For fuck's sake, Margolin, could you at least try to be subtle._

Obviously, the Hot Barista is no fool. His smile grows wider, and Dallas looks like he might panic if he is tested any longer. The Hot Barista has no mercy; he cocks his head gently to the side and speaks to Dallas directly, a strand of shiny, model hair falling over his eyes.

"May I get you something?"

Dallas whimpers behind Parker, shuffling so he is almost hidden behind him- He shakes his head, trying to pretend like he suddenly has a runny nose so he can hide his red face behind the sleeve of his shirt and sniffle. It's such a helpless cover up it fills Parker with an immediate protectiveness of his best friend, and he hands Hot Barista his money and orders for the both of them so that Dallas can hide peacefully behind his back, now holding onto the hoodie as though a lifeline.

Attractive people, clearly, just don't know when to let up. The Hot Barista decides that he wants to be personally responsible for making their drinks; he calls upon a friend and gets her to cover the register so he can torture Dallas further with a couple of more dazzling smiles and by putting his own effort into making something for him. It's like a personal vendetta against the poor boy. Parker is affronted.

"Dally, you wait here. I'm going to deal with this myself," he assures, grabbing at his best friend's hand.

He pulls Dallas away from the queue and roots him to a spot behind the serving counter, still in sight but not as close to the testy Hot Barista. He is at his weakest, so he needs protection from those who compromise his composure even more than it already is.

Dallas nods, hardly paying attention. He’s using the maximum of his leftover energy to stare at the Hot Barista while trying not to get caught doing so. Of course, there’s not a lot of energy to use, to begin with, and all he manages to do is keeping his eyes open. But it still works; he’s far too sleepy to direct the full force of his heart eyes at Hot Barista, so the guy remains unaware of his gaze and continues working to concoct a highly caffeinated love potion. In Parker’s opinion, that’s the worst kind. Dallas will be swooning immediately, and if he swoons in this state he'll fall to the ground.

Parker waits patiently at the counter, tapping his fingers on the linoleum and keeps a trained eye on Hot Barista's broad-shouldered back to make sure he doesn't shoot any unfairly beautiful smiles to his carrot-haired friend. He still does, though. And when he sees Parker glaring, he smiles _again_ . The _audacity._

Either this guy is just really used to tired people staring angrily at him before they get their morning coffee, or he's outright choosing to ignore Parker's disapproval to continue flirting.  

Parker hopes it's not the latter.

He taps more impatiently, to psyche the Hot Barista out. Hot Barista is too busy brewing coffee at a very admirable speed to notice, and Parker is once again bitterly noting the chill he possesses.

The coffee arrives before him, with so many as two pretty dimpled smiles; one for Parker and a wider, sunnier one for Dallas in the background. Parker quickly grabs the cups from the Hot Barista with a scoff and an almost hissed, but sincerely meant, 'thanks'. He turns around on his heel, ready to get Dallas out this attractive devil’s sight, and begins walking towards his best friend with purpose and hot coffee.

He tries to make eye contact with Dallas, to express exasperation over the Hot Barista and his persistence, but Dallas’s eyes are sound shut when Parker looks at him. His mouth stretches in a yawn that he is much too zoned out to cover, but his hand reaches up a few inches anyway. It doesn’t make it too far up before it drops down again lazily, and the yawn brings small tears to his eyes.

It has to be then, while he is holding coffee in both his hands, that Parker's prediction comes true; Dallas is truly falling asleep standing. Parker finds himself midway between the cafe counter and Dallas, frozen with an early morning brain and realizing he doesn't have enough time to both take the coffee back and run to stabilize his friend. Dallas’s mouth twitches just a little and his shoulders go slack. Parker can only watch, wide-eyed, as the tired boy tips to his left just a little too much.

Then everything happens in an odd slow motion.

Dallas begins to fall slowly, Parker’s mouth opens even slower to yell his name... and meanwhile, the blurred figure of Hot Barista flies towards Dallas from behind.

There’s a yell from Parker, but far too late.

Dallas has already fallen, slowly and ungracefully, but into the waiting arms of Hot Barista. Parker’s scream comes to a screeching halt, and his mouth hangs open in shock. Hot Barista stands confused, holding Dallas carefully in his arms, himself unsure of what has happened or why.

Dallas is not quite asleep anymore; his eyes open blearily and then blink wide open when he sees that his circumstances are far from normal. He turns to look at his hero, his gaze locking with Hot Barista’s equally shocked expression, and his lips part in silence.

Someone whistles at them and Parker watches as the blood rushes like a flood into Hot Barista’s toffee colored face. But he does not let go of Dallas, and Dallas does not move away from him. They stay together like this, like a screenshot from a romcom, until Parker manages to clear his throat.

Then, the haze breaks.

Dallas quickly jumps away from Hot Barista, spluttering out quiet apologies and thank yous and streams of unidentifiable, distressed murmurs. Hot Barista stands stiff and red in the face with his arms to his side, distracted nodding his only reply to all of Dallas’s rambling. They make a ridiculous pair like this but Parker is so glad to see Hot Barista exhibiting signs of weakness. He looks more flustered than Parker could ever have daydreamed, but Dallas is no better.

Far too soon, Dallas runs out of rambling to do and sorrys to offer. So his voice falters, mouth opening and closing as he struggles to find words but realizes he has nothing left to say. He stands awkwardly, staring at Hot Barista in the pressing silence.

 Hot Barista smiles at him meekly. It’s a very gentle smile, like an offering of peace and understanding of their mutual artlessness. His hand runs through his soft, perfect hair awkwardly, and then, to Parker’s immense annoyance, it falls back into the same messy, perfect style. Another strand of shiny brown falls over his eyes as he looks at Dallas through his lashes. This fucking guy looks attractive even when he’s embarrassed.

Dallas stares at him, smitten but no doubt trying to hide it. His great effort is not enough, though; intentional or not, his brown eyes drop to Hot Barista’s mouth when he bites his lip, pondering. It’s so gay that Parker can _feel_ it coming off in waves while standing a few feet away. It’s 8 am for God’s sake, he’s not ready to put up with romance at this hour.

Dallas looks at him patiently, and Hot Barista wipes his palm on his apron.

“Well,” he says, extending his hand, “I’m Malek.”

Dallas glances at the outstretched hand, and then turns to Parker, acknowledging him finally. His eyes scream of surprise; this boy can find himself caught mid-fall in someone’s arms and still be startled when they tell him their name. Parker rolls his eyes, conveying his point efficiently.

His best friend turns back to Malek, and accepts the handshake, and Malek adjusts gently to his sleep-deprived rhythm.

“Dallas,” he says quietly, turning away from Malek’s smile with rosy cheeks and nods towards the third person they have both forgotten, “and that’s Parker.”

Malek spares Parker a smile with the stupid dimples again, and Parker reciprocates with only a nonchalant quirk of his eyebrows, to suggest that he, too, is a chill boy.  Despite the clarity of this communication, Parker's chillness remains unacknowledged and Malek turns back to resume his awkward flirting with Dallas. This time, he looks down at their hands, still joint, and realizes that they never ended their handshake.

As if on cue, they pull back their hands at the same time and Dallas scratches his neck nervously, his eyes flitting around to avoid Malek’s. Malek, in the meanwhile, pats the pockets of his jeans and reaches inside for a small notepad and a pen. Dallas and Parker both observe him nervously as he scribbles something onto a page and rips it away, to offer it with a small, shy smile.

Dallas, once again, looks anxiously at Parker and gawks, disappointed at the uncertain shrug his friend offers in response. He gives the note a tentative look, and Malek stretches it closer to him with an encouraging nod. It’s a day of wonders, and it’s only 8 am, so Dallas bravely removes the paper from Malek’s fingers and unfolds it close to his nose to squint at it.

It’s either a love letter or a phone number, it has to be one of the two, Parker is sure of it. Their expressions say enough, and judging by how flustered Dallas is after just one glance at it, Parker knows he’s guessed just right.

“Um…” begins Malek, looking unexpectedly timid, “You look sick and you need sleep so take care and, uh. Please call me, if you um. If you need stuff.”

Dallas stares at him, stunned and endearing with his big watery owl eyes, as Malek continues.

“Call me just to, yanno, talk and stuff, too. If..if you want.”

Dallas’s eyes grow wider, and his eyebrows shoot higher up into his hair. Parker, too, is astounded by how forward this boy is; it’s like a Disney movie, but live with college students and less singing.

Malek’s cheeks are flooded with red, and Dallas nods just once in a daze, to say yes, and it is all that Malek needs. He smiles wide with his perfectly straight teeth and the crinkle of his eyes and pauses to squeeze Dallas’s hand once before hesitantly running back to the kitchen.

He is greeted by giggles from his teasing co-workers, getting supportive pats on the back as he hides away behind the coffee maker. Parker squints at him, surprised. He had expected more chill dismissal and less highschool crush. But Malek’s cheeks are still burning, neck bent and eyes staring at the machine with more vigor than necessary. He seems to have forgotten about Dallas in his intense focus, but just as Parker steers Dallas towards a faraway table, he glances up again with another shy smile in their direction.

The one Dallas returns is tinier, timider, but sincerely meant, and Parker sees him carefully push the little note inside his pocket, for safekeeping. He still looks terribly tired, and he is no doubt too insecure to believe the flirting, but there is the tiniest glimmer in his eyes that Parker thinks will give him enough life to let him last through the day.

 

It makes Parker consider, if just for a brief minute, that this cool, ridiculously perfect Hot Barista might not be so bad after all.


	2. dallas finally does it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This update is a loooong overdue gift, finally finished on the occasion of Caleb and I's anniversary. Its silly and a little rushed, but I hope both he and you like it nonetheless <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen to first date by blink 182 as you read this okay

 

Parker has been having the most wonderful day of his life.

Which is to say, he’s bought a whole stash of fancy lollipops and has been lying starfished in bed with his rain sounds app on full volume to stimulate the blissful illusion of rain in California. He sighs at the ceiling, masterfully turning on some piano sounds to go with the rain sounds, a stroke of genius. This is basically as chill as it can possibly be, full saturation of chillness, just the most chillest possible scenario.

He stares in bliss at the ceiling, sighing, thanking himself and God for days off and his iPhone, and hears another, longer, sigh echo right back at him. Parker tuts, craning his head just slightly with as little effort as possible to look at his roommate, who is sitting cross-legged on the ground with his phone almost pressed to his nose. He looks positively miserable. This lovesick stuff has been a real hamper on the mood, frankly.

“Dallas, buddy, I love you but you are _really_ cramping my style here.” says Parker, scrunching his eyebrows, “This has been going on for _three_ days.”

Dallas looks up from the screen and frowns, scooting himself so that he is sat right next to Parker’s face. This is really not helping Parker’s vibe at all, so he tries to actively ignore this update. Dallas, unaware, puts the phone right in front of Parker’s eyes, the bright screen glowing at him even through shut eyes and the relaxation of rain sounds.

Parker is forced to relent, so he squints at the screen, wondering how on Earth Margolin can possibly survive with his brightness up that high, and his eyes focus in on an empty conversation. It’s literally been open for three days, with no messages to or fro. This is a gay nightmare. Bad enough that Parker has to pause on the rain sounds.

“Dude.”

Dallas throws his forehead onto the mattress, “I _know_.”

“I know he’s hot or whatever, but once a guy catches you in his arms like that there’s really no going back. You just have to date him now.” Parker shakes his head, “That’s just the way things are, you need to wake up.’

“I haven’t even sent him a waving emoji yet...”

“Exactly! How hard is it to click on the stupid emoji, Margo.”

Dallas pulls himself onto the bed and falls back, right on top of Parker’s shoulder, and groans.

“He’s too cute to not be dating someone already, right?” he says, asking so that Parker dissuades him from talking to Malek, but the lilt in his voice still sounding hopeful.

“I mean, mathematically, sure.” huffs Parker, his left side pinned down by Dallas’s weight, “But he _did_ ask you to call him - to ‘talk and stuff’. I’m sure the ‘stuff’ insinuates copulation of some kind.”

“Fuck off so much, Jonas”

Parker jerks his shoulder out from underneath Dallas and tugs at the phone in his hand. Dallas retaliates with a much firmer tug of his own, nearly hitting his phone on the wall as he does, given the cramped space they’re in.

“I could text him for, you know. At least the wave emoji? Let me do it, c’mon. C’mon c’mon c’mon c’mon c’mo-”

Dallas stares daggers into Parkers eyes, scanning them left and right for any sign of insincerity, and Parker stares back, determined, until Dallas relents, sighing.

“ _Just_ the wave emoji, Jonas”

Parker nods sagely, accepting the phone Dallas begrudgingly offers him. He pulls it to his side, Dallas peering like a hawk over his shoulder, and opens up the little emoji section. His thumb hovers over the hand emojis, as though he is searching carefully for the waving hand, but Dallas does not pick out his feign.  

With a kind of sureness that only comes with years worth of knowledge, he suddenly flips from the smiley and hand emojis to the weather emojis at light speed. Dallas, too whiplashed to realize what’s happening, is unable to stop his friend before he sends the wave emoji to Malek 

The _wrong_ wave emoji.

There is a yelp, and a shove, and a thud, and a painful cry, as Dallas snatches the phone from Parker’s hands and pushes him off the bed.

“Why would you do that to me!?” Dallas screams.

Parker, nursing his head on the ground, answers with a moan.

“This is _not_ what I meant when we agreed on wave emoji, and you _sabotaged_ my conversation!”

“ _What_ conversation?”

“Shut up. Absolutely shut up. What am I even supposed to do now?”

At this, Parker perks up, shooting back onto his butt and scooting next to Dallas. Dallas looks suspiciously at Parker’s grin, but he knows that it’s a clear sign as any that the emoji was part of his devious plan. 

“Start a conversation, of course!” says Parker, his eyebrows dancing, “Follow with a witty joke and charm him with your sharp humor. A simple hand wave can’t cut it for your first words to Mr. Hot Barista.”

His friend slaps his own freckled face, panicking under the ticking clock that is the time left till Malek sees his message and leaves him doomed to a Malek-less life when he realizes just how terrible Dallas is at texting. Dallas might consider pretending this never happened, and just leaving it there, but Parker is persistent. He pokes repeatedly at Dallas’s thigh until he agrees, exasperated and out of options but to listen to Parker and his scheme.

Dallas whines and bunches up his shoulders, turning himself into a little ball, his thumbs pausing above the screen as he thinks out his response. His thumb reaches closer to the screen and backs up again, contemplating, he looks once, twice, at Parker, and then begins typing with an enormous pout. Lip jutting out as though some great injustice has befallen a child.

The message seems to be quite long, that or Dallas is carefully contemplating his words because he seems entirely engrossed. Typing faster, then slower, then faster again. If this were a sports anime, he’d be sweating rivers. He huffs a little, preparing himself for his next words every time he manages to write two of them. What a damn nerd.

Knowing Dallas, he must be anxiously considering all the little nuances of his message. ‘How many emojis is too many emojis?’, ‘does a message longer than two sentences come off as too much?’, ‘is three exclamation marks one too many?’. Dallas is a serial overthinker, but boy does he look adorable hyperfocusing on a single text message like that. Nose nearly pressed to his phone, eyebrows furrowed, face turned bright red from embarrassment, and all those shifty glances towards Parker to check if he was still waiting for Dallas to be finished.

At long last, Dallas pauses to take a deep inhale. He shares a look with Parker one last time, and dramatically brings his finger down to press send. Quick exhale.

Then, he covers his face and thrusts the phone towards Parker, hitting his already aching head.

“Watch it!” complains Parker, rubbing his forehead and catching hold of the phone to read Dallas’s very first message to Malek. It must be incredible, it must be just right.

And its-

 

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 _Perfect_  

_He’s perfect_

  
Malek Solh has spent three whole days waiting for a text. It’s so dorky, it’s so uncool. Poppy has smacked his head at least 15 times for the way he perks up every time his phone makes any kind of sound. You catch a guy in your arms one time and all of a sudden you have this insatiable need to take him out on a date and buy him warm shit for his cold. Suppose that’s just how it works, but this is so entirely unlike Malek.

He’s spent these three days so desperately hoping that Dallas would text. Say something, _anything_ , but just text so Malek could take the signal and sweep him off his feet. Woo him with some guitar maybe, surely all these art kids love indie, he’s bound to love Malek’s crooning, right? Malek’s got a few things going on for him, alright alright alright, this ball is totally in his court, this is a hundred percent his cup of tea, this is totally something he can do. He can woo Dallas, it can’t be impossible, can it? They’ve already shared a _moment_ , they’ve got the foundation already. All Malek needs to do is smoothen it over, play it cool.

However, when Malek finally got not one, but _two_ , messages from an unknown number, he did not play it cool at all.

He paused mid-brew at the buzzing of his pocket, hand slipping in to check his phone. He was quick as a current, all too eager to know if Dallas had finally remembered him, and all too excited to find his two notifications. So much so that he had to beg Poppy for ‘ _5 minutes off, I promise, I promise_ ’, until she dismissed him with a disapproving, and yet knowing, frown.

Malek, absurdly hyped for two messages, ran back into the breakroom like a bullet. Throwing himself onto the disgusting sofa chair, not complaining or fussing, for once, about all the weird stains or tears, too engrossed in his phone and the anticipation of finally hearing from Dallas. He sits up straight, readying himself, and beats his chest with his fist in an effort to tell his heart to slow down and be cool.

He gingerly unlocks his phone with his thumb and opens his inbox, running the other hand through his hair and letting it rest on the back of his neck.

He smiles.

 

_Perfect, perfect, perfect._

 

He smiles wider. He slumps into the disgusting sofa chair with a breezy exhale, so oddly taken by this tired boy and his ridiculously perfect, adorable, text.

  
**Unknown number:**

*wave emoji*

**Unknown number:**

I just wanted to /wave/ at you and say hello! :>) this is dallas! from three days ago!you may not still remember me but i wanted to say thank you for saving my head.you make the best coffee ever! :>D it kept me going all day. sea you soon!

 

_He has to be my boyfriend, inshallah._

 

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Poppy is a tired girl.

She is patient, she is kind, she is benevolent, she is tiny and yet powerful, but she is tired. And especially so of Malek and his dumb crush. And also this job.

So, when 10 minutes pass since Malek promised his return in 5, she storms into the breakroom. A fiery empress, waiting to set this stupid boy with his stupid hair ablaze. Fully intent on smacking his head for what must be the hundredth time in three days alone.

But when she sees him,  she finds him sprawled, like in a dream, on that nasty sofa chair. Smiling at the ceiling like he’s won his lottery, so lovesmacked that he disregards her whole presence in the room - but something inside her melts.

She’s known him nearly seven years and she’s never seen him like this. It feels good to see someone you love so happy. She spares a quick smile, one he doesn’t see.

“Get your ass outside or I confiscate your phone,” she says, smacking him again, but gently this time.

Poppy may be kind, and a believer in true love, but she is, after all, incredibly tired.

 

This crush is going to have to wait.

 

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